


Of Thunderstorms, Kisses and Promises

by notjustmom



Series: Tumblr fics 2018-19 [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cuddles, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: A gift fic for hpswl_cumbercookie, who requested cuddles and kisses...





	Of Thunderstorms, Kisses and Promises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HPswl_cumbercookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPswl_cumbercookie/gifts).



“Do you remember?” John asked against the distant rumble of the coming storm.

“I remember far too many bits of nonsense, and far too little of the things that matter, you may need to narrow your scope somewhat, John.”

“The first time we kissed.”

Sherlock chuckled softly and shook his head. “As I recall, it was more of a you kissing me scenario, than a ‘we’ -”

“Yes, alright -” John shivered as the thunder rattled the windows and he buried his face into Sherlock’s shoulder until the lightning lit up the room and the rain that had been threatening all week, finally began to fall in a deluge. “I finally just needed to know -”

“You needed to know, what, precisely?” Sherlock cocked a curious eyebrow at him, then kissed his sweat-matted hair, and waited for him to catch his breath again.

“-what you tasted like,” John finally finished, as he lifted his head and ran a finger over Sherlock’s plush bottom lip.

“And what did I taste like that night?”

“Prawn dumplings, sake and -”

“And?”

“A hint of three-day old corpse,” John mumbled into his neck with a snort of laughter.

“My apologies,” Sherlock muttered into John’s hair, as the summer winds whistled through the flat. He held him tighter as another roll of thunder made them both hold their breath for a moment, then ran his fingers lightly over John’s back and cleared his throat. “You’ve always tasted like peppermint, licorice all-sorts and a bit of tea with honey - sweetness itself, John.”

“Had you ever -?” John began, then stopped.

“No. You are my first, my only and my last.”

John lifted his head again, then rested it over the steady beat of Sherlock’s heart and whispered, “how can you -”

“I know because I was always certain, even from childhood, of only two things, three if you wish to be accurate. First, was the periodic table; and second, I would die unloved and quite alone -”

John shook his head and waited for him to go on.

“But, you’ve proven me wrong in this, as you have in so many other things. And, you, against all odds, have found something in me worth loving, and indeed, unless I am wrong, have found a home here with me, in spite of everything -?”

John bolted upright and gazed into the eyes that now seemed to glow silver in the near darkness of their room before he whispered hoarsely, “you know I have -”

“So, it only is logical, you see, for us to - hmm…” He reached over to the bedside table, opened the drawer, and after a moment presented John with an ornately carved wooden box. “I hadn’t quite planned to ask you this way, there was to be a candlelit dinner, wine, and of course, music -”

John drew in a sharp breath as he opened the box to find a finely crafted ring in white gold, simple and strong, yet elegant in its way. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

Sherlock took the ring from the box, and slipped it onto John’s finger, kissing it just as the storm finally knocked the power out on Baker Street and the neighboring streets, and he once again pulled John to his chest and held on tightly as the storm continued on into the early hours of the morning.


End file.
